Spaces
by baltics
Summary: Spanning 10 years of two boys lives, it's about how the space between them grows, shrinks, and changes. Originally posted under the same name on Archive of Our Own.
1. Chapter 1

The two boys who sat on the bench outside the principal's office had never said a word to one another before the fight. They weren't speaking now, either, and what little they did say to each other was just that: a few words. The taller boy, still too shaken to speak, kept looking over at the other, his bruised face and cut lip causing him a lot of worry. His feet were tightly put together, glancing from the small bloody lip to the tops of his sneakers. He looked at the other boy's sneakers too, noticing how they were bright white in places, but now the sides were caked in brown dirt. They looked new. His eyes swung back to his own shoes, looking at the torn lip and fraying laces that were tapped together in places. He didn't want to cry but his eyes were watering now.

"I'm..." He squeaked out, then noticing how high pitched his voice was. "I didn't mean for your shoes to get dirty. They look nice."

The blonde child looked at him, his own eyes a little teary. "Uh..." Was all he got out before the door next to the bench swung open, a woman in a long dress and tight black shoes coming out, arm open to let another go before her.

Who came out was another boy, taller than the two of them, which wasn't just because he was two grades above them. Other fourth graders were almost a head smaller than he was. His face was a little less beaten up, mostly it was just dirty with a small scrape on his forehead. His face wasn't in the same saddened state, though. He was actually smiling.

"Ivan, go right into class. I don't want to hear anything else about this, alright? Do you understand?"

"Of course, Mrs. Wynne." He beamed at her, innocence shining through his dirty face. "We'll all be good after this."

"Good...oh, Ivan, wash your face first." Ivan beamed at her again and almost skipped down the hall.

"I hate that guy."

The taller boy turned to stare at his companion, eyes wide. Mrs. Wynne shared the same stare.

"Both of you. Inside. Now. Feliks, you come in first. Then you Toris." The boy who had just spoke rolled his eyes and plopped off the bench, sulking into the office. Toris shakily followed, wondering now how much trouble they must really be in.

***

Sitting in one of the office chairs, Toris' feet could barely touch the floor. He felt too nervous to look at the principal, now questioning Feliks who looked just as nervous but in a different way.

"Please tell me what happened, Feliks. All of it this time."

"But...but I already did! That's how it happened! He knows too. Ask him, he'll tell you the same thing, I swear!"

Toris snapped his head up quickly, eyes wide. The principal turned to him, now with a softer tone.

"Toris, please tell me what happened a little bit ago. And we don't tell any lies in this room, understand?"

He nodded his head, looking back at his shoes. He should be grateful that he had shoes, but right now he hated them and the horrible frayed laces and the soles that were starting to get holes on the sides.

"W-Well..." Toris started, not moving his gaze. He began to tell the story while Mrs. Wynne stared at him intently.

It had only been thirty minutes ago that all the grades had been let out for recess. It was one day before Christmas break, and the teachers were beginning to be more lenient with school work, so recess had begun to get longer and longer. It was only a little chilly; Southern Californian winters were never really harsh so most of the children were still in shorts and t-shirts, running around without a complaint.

Toris wasn't much for running around so much as he was sitting or doing his own thing at recess. He wasn't lazy by any means, but Toris still hadn't found his niche. His teachers knew he was a friendly child, he was just a little bit of a loner; it was expected he would one day grow out of it. So at this recess, it was to be expected he could be found alone. He'd taken himself underneath one of the various trees on the play lot and sat with a book.

He only looked up from one of the pages when he heard the sound of feet close to him. When he did so, he recognized the tall boy who had come over to him.

Ivan was by all means a friendly child, at least in Toris' eyes in the beginning. Toris wasn't used to particular attention, so when Ivan would stop him in the hallway and make idle chatter or when he caught the fourth grader staring at him sometimes at recess, Toris felt more than a little flustered. Something about him made his stomach feel a little queasy, and when Ivan would smile at him and stare so blatantly, it started to make Toris feel extremely uncomfortable. He automatically felt uneasy when he looked up and saw that was who approached him. He thought about it sometimes when he was alone; laying in bed or in the bath. He never really got why Ivan made him feel so strange and squirmy, but it didn't change the knot he got in his stomach.

"Hello Toris. Are you having fun?"

"Yes." Toris said, staring back down at his book.

"Good." Ivan smiled, clasping his hands together in front of him. "But aren't you bored, just reading? We can do something else. It's nice out."

"I want to finish this before we leave for break..." Toris began. "So I can turn it back into the libra-"

"Our librarian said we can keep books during break. We can play tag if you want. Or just sit somewhere together. I like talking to you."

Toris bit his lip. "I really want to sit here."

He expected Ivan would give up or get bored of him but instead he just came closer, standing in front of him, shadowing him, making Toris look up.

"Don't you know I'm older than you? You're supposed to listen to people older than you, right?" Ivan was still staring and smiling.

"Yes," Toris nodded, stomach even more upset. "I'm not very good at most games, though, so...maybe you should play with kids your own age."

"I want to play with you though." And that's when Ivan's hands were on his wrist, dragging him upward. Toris' book fell to the dirt and he felt the tree bark scrape the back of his head. He wasn't sure how loudly he had said "Ow" or if that was even what he'd said, but he knew something had come out of his mouth. Ivan's grip on his arm was tight, but Toris didn't fight it, instead just stood up and let his arm go where Ivan wanted. He strained his face, as defiant as he could be, but he didn't want to anger him.

It wasn't long, though, until the hands were off of him. There was a scream, Toris remembered, and suddenly Ivan was on the ground. Toris glanced around in disbelief, finally seeing the cause. A child he vaguely recognized from being in another class of his lay on the ground, also looking a little surprised. He quickly shook his head and got up, rushing over to Ivan, who was getting up too.

"Feliks." Was all he said, before Feliks was on him again, pounding on his chest. Ivan looked unimpressed and quickly shoved Feliks back down onto the dirt. All Toris could do was watch as the two wrestled, bringing other children to watch and cheer. It seemed like forever before a teacher finally came over, pulling the two apart.

"See, that's what I said happened!" Feliks said, Toris done with his story.

The principal just sat there, hands folded and staring. "Would you like to hear what Ivan said?"

No one answered so she continued. "Ivan says that he just wanted to play with you, Toris, and that Feliks here started to beat him up. And it sounds like you just said the same thing."

"But he didn't WANT to play. Ivan is big, he's fat, and he's a liar." Feliks yelled, anger apparent on his face.

"Feliks, that is enough. You are already in enough trouble as it is. Ivan is a good boy and you aren't being a very good one yourself. Toris, please go back to class. I'll call your mother and explain your injuries. Feliks, you stay right here."

Toris didn't need another invitation. He nodded quickly and jumped from the chair, walking out quickly. He vaguely heard the start of more of Feliks' complaining, but he didn't want to be there for anymore of that. He didn't go back to class, but ran to the nearest restroom. It was during class hours, so it was empty. He went to the mirror trying hard to see the scrape on the back of his head. He felt a little dried blood on his hair, but he couldn't really find the wound. He wet his hands and wiped at his hair, rinsing off some of the dried blood. He remembered Feliks and Ivan going to the nurses office, but he was taken straight to the administrative hallway, plopped down on a bench and told to sit, forgotten about until Feliks got back.

He winced at his wound, his fingers finally finding the source. It was just a scrape, but it was still sore, covered in a dried blood scab. His mother would no doubt see it and coddle him needlessly, which he wasn't in any state to complain about. After cleaning off the rest of his dirty hair, he moved to the back end of the small restroom, getting a line of paper towels from the grimy crank-laden dispenser. Toris jumped, though, after hearing the door to the bathroom slam open and turned suddenly, only to see Feliks sulking in. The blonde didn't notice him for a few seconds, hands balled into fists, walking briskly to the first sink. When he did see Toris he stopped, staring at him with wide eyes, but then clumsily turning on the sink faucets and washing his hands.

Toris ripped off his paper towel chain awkwardly, folding it up into a small square for his head. Feliks, meanwhile, was splashing water on his shorts, a grass stain covering the bottom cuff of their beautiful white denim. Feliks looked aggressive but was being quiet about it now, causing Toris to be a little confused.

"Uhm..." He began, causing Feliks to stop splashing his shorts. "Thank you again. I don't know what happened but it helped me."

Feliks looked a little worried before he began again. "I know Ivan. I hate him."

"You know him? Like not just in school?"

"We're...cousins, okay. And he's a weirdo."

"Oh." Toris stopped. "Well...you still did something good for me so thanks."

"Uh-huh." Feliks nodded, still looking down at his stained shorts.

Toris pat his hair dry and pressed the paper towel into his scrape. It stung for a second. A few seconds later he threw the paper towel in the trash, making his way out of the bathroom. Before he left, though, he turned back to the quiet again blonde boy, back to rubbing at his shorts.

"Feliks?"

"Yeah?" He stopped again, looking at Toris with widened eyes.

"My- My mom takes stains like that out all the time. She uses syrup. You just, uh, put a little pool on and then tap it in with your finger and wash it. Then the stains gone."

Feliks' eyes slivered now. "That's totally dumb. Why would I want grass stains and sticky stuff on my cool shorts?"

"I'm...That's just what she does. My little cousin gets grass stains on his pants all the time and she fixes them. Your mom can do it too."

"My mom isn't into fixing my clothes. She'll get me some new ones though." He finally gave up, throwing his own wadded up paper towel in the trash, water dripping down his leg. "I liked these though, it sucks."

"Yeah..." Toris trailed off, not knowing what to say, especially since he wasn't sure if 'sucks' was a bad word or not. "I have to go though. Back to class."

"Yeah, cool, whatever." Feliks was now trying to shine the dirt off of his shoes in the sink, getting his socks soaked. "Don't let Ivan get near you or you'll get his weird too."

Toris nodded, then wondered why, silently opening the door to the bathroom and sliding out. He walked briskly all the way to class,walking into the room without a word from anyone.

***

The walk home wasn't too far for Toris, who was dragging a smaller child with him. If his mother had it her way, he would be riding the bus to and from school. His aunt, however, was insistent that because her child Eduard was starting school, and because buses were unsafe, he had to be walked to and from school. Though, of course, she was more interested in sleeping to walk him herself, thus Toris was given the position. His mother didn't have the power in the house to say no.

It wasn't that Toris minded walking Eduard around, but at this age, 5, all he did was ask questions. Toris was a surprisingly patient child, and tried to answer what he could, even while trying to navigate he and his ward through California after school traffic.

"Toris, how does that sign know you pressed the button?" He asked now, after Toris had hit the button for the crosswalk, almost having to stand on his tiptoes.

"I don't know, Eddy. Maybe wires. Ask your teacher tomorrow." He stood, frowning glumly, wanting to be home and in bed.

"Okay. I will." Eduard smiled slightly, reaching for the button, trying with all his might to reach and press it. Toris let go of the small boys hand, and moved behind him, picking him up by the armpits so he could press the large red button, which he did so repeatedly. Some of the civilians around him laughed and 'awwww'ed while others smacked their gums and rolled their eyes. As soon as the signal switched, though, Eduard was back on his feet and the two were walking the three city blocks to their brownstone.

Once they finally reached the large apartment complex, it was a five flight walk up to their small apartment. The trek wasn't usually so bad but the building was incredibly bustling today, including a very angry Moldovan man shouting outside on the stoop, an enthusiastic new couple in the third stairwell, an irritated old janitor that yelled at the boys for stepping on his freshly waxed stairs, and a very heated eviction going on right down their hall. Toris felt so relieved when they were finally unlocking the door with a key produced from Toris' backpack, and Eduard was starting to get a little antsy as well.

Entering the small apartment, Toris immediately took off his shoes and put them on the small mat assigned for them, helping Eduard with his laces right after despite his protest. It took Eduard's mother a little while to get out of the kitchen, cigarette in hand.

"There he is! Was your day nice, Eduard?" She laughed, accent heavy and smelling of what Toris figured to be rubbing alcohol. It wasn't very easy to figure it out, though, through her cloud of cigarette smoke. Aunt Leena always had some sort of strange smell to her, though, so that wasn't strange.

"Are they home?" Came a voice from the kitchen, this one Toris was actually pleased to hear. His mother came in, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Oh thank God, Toris, your school called and your head...this woman called."

She came over, flustered and forgetting herself in front of her older sister, scooping Toris into her arms. "Did you get hurt? Show me?"

Her sister rolled her eyes, picking up her son who began to cough, stalking out of the room, mumbling something in Estonian that Toris could only make out to be "Poor dumb Agne." She took a drag off her cigarette, switching to English. "She's been running around...like a dead chicken. Head gone and all." She made a motion with her hand against her throat, though with her cigarette laden hand causing her to cross her eyes.

"Only a little mom. We don't have to speak English if you want." He began to part his hair, turning around, talking to her quietly.

"No, it's good for you to speak English always." She said, separating his hair with her fingers. "You learn more that way...oh Toris, I see it. Who did this kind of thing to you?" She stood, gingerly keeping her fingers right under where the scab was, another on Toris back. "Come to the washroom, we'll fix it."

He led his mother to the communal restroom, passing through their small living room where his other aunt was laying on the couch. Aunt Alisa was the second child of the three, but the one with the newest baby. The two were asleep, son on her rising and falling stomach. From there, there were only three other doors: the one leading into his mother and aunt's bedroom, his shared bedroom with Eduard and baby Raivis, and then the bathroom. The apartment was really small, with only five real rooms. But then, that was all the family could afford, even with three working women. Then again, it was hard for three undocumented women who spoke broken english to get jobs that weren't sleazy or involved cleaning one thing or another. It was a momentous day when Alisa, fresh off the plane, got a job at the grocery store, though her English was certainly better than anyone else's.

Entering the washroom, Toris plopped down on the toilet, wrinkling his nose at the smell of cigarette smoke thick in the air. Leena was accustomed to blowing her cigarette smoke into the bathroom fan, though all that did was blow it right back. He watched his mother dig around in the small cupboard, sliding bottles over to produce a small bottle of peroxide and a circular band aid.

"This will hurt, but you mustn't cry." She said gently using a piece of toiler paper to dab at his wound with peroxide. "There's a nurse at school, Toris? With things like this?"

"Yeah," he crossed his feet at the ankles, pressing into his shinbone at the pain. "They didn't tell me to go though. I don't think I'm allowed."

"Silly. That's silly." She finally dried his scab, placing the band aid on it and pressing lightly, which even that made Toris wince. "They don't let you go because it's a rich school."

"I don't know, Mom." He stared back down at his shoes, feeling bad for thinking so badly of them earlier.

"Go on, go. Homework before dinner, okay?" She patted him on the back, but not before kissing his head, making sure not to disturb his wound. Toris fixed his hair, watching her leave and shutting the door. He hopped up, quickly opening the window overlooking the alley and watched the thick air stream out, the colour of softened smoke. He could see his school from here, the neighbourhood where most of the children went on the opposite side. Though the buildings were just as tall on his side of the city, the gold and light brown colours of the other buildings looked much taller and thicker and more important. He wondered for a moment if the families in those buildings only had five rooms and smoked in bathrooms and had to share a bed with their little cousin. He bet if Leena smoked in the bathroom of one of those buildings, two or three security guards would come and snatch her up and throw her in a jail.

But he quickly scampered off to his room, tossing off his backpack onto the small cot he shared with Eduard (who was lucky enough to not have homework) and began to read from the activity book he was assigned. He'd done almost eight pages when a hand slammed up against his door repeatedly.

"Toris! Are you just going to lay around or help?" He slammed his book shut, quickly pulling off his cleaner socks to put on the ones he kept tucked under the mattress, filled with holes but what he used for cleaning. It was routine that when his mother left for work at her evening job it was Toris who needed to help with dishes, dinner, and then cleaning up afterwards. He rushed to the door, opening it to see Leena staring at him incredulously.

"Did Mom say goodbye?"

"No. Why does she need to? Agne acts like a goose on an egg, Lord." She turned on her heel, tightening the sloppy loop on her apron behind her with painted, long nails. "We need clean pans. Make sure you scrub well."

It wasn't long before his arms were reddened by the hot water, just short of needing a step stool to get to the sink. Leena sat watching the oven, an old gas stove with no timer, smoking yet again.

"So. Toris." She asked, cigarette in her mouth as she examined her nails. "What happened to you today? You should have seen Agne, acting like you were taken."

"Uhm." Toris began, continuing to wash while he talked. "It was my fault. I was a little rude to an older boy and an accident happened."

He heard her snort and could picture her made up face scowling. "Just like your mother. Letting people walk all over. Turn around, you look at me."

Slowly he turned to her, eyes wide.

"When someone makes you bleed, you do just as good to them. My husband thought it would be funny to smack me around and look where he is. Not here, is he? Piss poor man. Just like the tough guy who did this to you." Toris actually had no idea what she meant or where her husband was. This was the first time he'd actually heard about a husband before. "Are you going to stare like a big bug or say thank you to your Auntie?"

"Thank you, Aunt Leena." He nodded, turning back to his dishes. He couldn't imagine himself hurting someone. Even a scrape. Ivan really hadn't meant this to happen, even though he hadn't said sorry either. Feliks was so brave, and Toris could almost say cool. Fast and thrashing around. But for someone so brave he certainly was so weird.

"You're getting soap all over." Broken from his reverie, he reached around and pulled the plug from the sink, beginning to rinse the soap suds from the dishes he'd just cleaned.

***

The next day at school, the last before Christmas was out, Toris had finished 15 pages in his workbook, finished both of his library books and tested on both of them. The last day before any break was exceptionally lazy, as the children from Toris' grade were all packed in the gym, waiting for coaches or teachers to tell them what activity they were going to do that day. Toris sat on his big rubber placement dot, tracing the dirty tape on the gymnasium floor with a finger. His tracing was interrupted by the obnoxious sound of rubber moving around on plastic floor, screeching in his direction. Looking up ,a familiar face was scooting towards him, using his legs to drag his butt (still firmly planted on another rubber dot) to Toris, stopping about five feet away.

"What's up?" Feliks asked, tapping his feet on the ground.

"You're not supposed to move around..." Toris looked around, nervous for a teacher to see.

Feliks only rolled his eyes. "No! They said don't get off your dot. Mine's right here."

Toris nodded, admiring the clever notion.

"Anyway, I have something to tell you."

"What?"

Feliks scooted over, causing more horrible rubber rubbing sounds. "So I tried that thing you told me? I did it myself. Annnnnd it didn't go so good."

"What did you do?"

"Bozo, I did the syrup thing! On the shorts. Except I forgot how much." Feliks could barely stifle his giggle. "So I just poured it all over them. Mom caught me and got so mad I got it on the carpet."

While Feliks' face was one of amusement and laughter, Toris looked on in horror. He couldn't count how many times he'd be reprimanded and possibly slapped by Leena if he ever wasted clothes or food like that.

"Who cares though because she's getting me more today. I told you that would happen." Feliks crossed his legs, looking proud.

Toris wondered what happened to the shyer boy that was in the bathroom yesterday, pouring water all down his front. "It's sad you couldn't save the other ones though."

"I don't care. If I get another it doesn't matter." Feliks pulled at the tips of his shorts today, though he had a pair of leggings on underneath this time, shorts neon green and leggings crystal blue. "These are cool too. Someone said his sister had some. She must be pretty cool too to have cool things like this."

Toris had no idea what to feel about a pair of clothing he'd only seen twice so he just nodded.

"Do you have any cool things?" Feliks asked, hands on his elbows which rested on his crossed knees.

"No, not really." Toris admitted. He wondered what he should have said because that didn't feel right.

"You should get some cool things. Like shoes and toys and stuff. I have so much cool stuff. One day I'll show you so you can figure out what cool things you want too."

"Show me?"

"Yeah, you can come over sometime. Especially since I have a job for you to do."

After saying this, Feliks slid off his dot, getting really close to Toris, leaning in. Toris leaned in too, whispering. "What job?"

"So you don't like Ivan, right?"

Toris felt bad for shaking his head but he couldn't help it. "Good, okay. Because I want us to go on a mission."

"What kind of mission?"

"We're gonna get Ivan back, okay? He lives right above me in my building so we can play a trick on him for hurting your head and messing up my shorts."

"I don't think I want to do that. Ivan's bigger..." His children's imagination revisited the scene with Ivan, his figure shadowing over him two stories more than what was realistic.

"Do you want to come to my house or not?" Feliks said loudly, causing Toris to lean back quickly.

"I guess...but I've never been to someone else's house before. Just mine."

"I've never had anyone but Ivan over either. Him and his sisters. But weird people don't count. Are you weird, Toris?"

"I don't think so."

"When you come over, I'll give you a test to see if you're weird or not."

Just then, a shrill whistle blew, causing Feliks to cover his ears and immediately scoot off.

The rest of the day was spent throwing balls and running, Toris running out of breath often. They spent hours in the gym before another sharp whistle blew and a shout to all the children that Christmas break had begun.

Filing into the school with an excitement that had no rival, most of the children grabbed their bags and ran for the front of the school ready to leave. Toris didn't have much to be excited for. While he'd heard classmates talking about grandiose gifts and trips away from the state, the country, his holiday would be filled with the same routine and a meager feast on Christmas and New Years as well as family traditions. Nothing so grand as going anywhere or getting more than a couple gifts.

He was putting your backpack on when a strong force came to slap him right near his shoulder blades, making him fall forward into his small cubby locker. He wasn't too quick to whip around, fearing Ivan was back to exact some sort of punishment but instead saw Feliks running backward clumsily down the hall. "Check your back!" he called, before spinning around to race to the exit like the rest of the milling children. He reached a hand over his shoulder, pulling off a pink sticky note with big scribbles in purple marker. There was a jostle of numbers that when he held it a certain way made out an address and a telephone number, an arrow pointing to the other side. Flipping it over there was a big looping smiley face with a large signature (FELIKS!) written on the back.

Whether or not he'd be able to accept the invitation, he had all of Christmas break to figure it out. 


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Toris had to do Christmas morning was remove a long piece of hay from Raivis' mouth.

His alarm hadn't quite gone off, yet he'd been awoken by the loud sounds of choking. He wondered how Eduard could have slept through all the noise, but he didn't dwell on it long. Toris tottered out of bed, feeling his feet freeze as they hit the cold floor. Southern California had just now decided to get a little chilly.

Soon, the long piece of hay was safely removed from the poor thing's mouth, a surprised look on his face as he contemplated breathing again, his airway free of its oppressor. He began to talk, but with a raspy voice and as any half asleep person would. Raivis was technically four, but he was small for his age; he'd always been on the slow side of developing physically. What he lacked in being tall or at a decent weight, he made up for in a mouth that never turned off. It was impressive to think he'd be going to preschool next year if the free admission, day care-like pre-school would take him. They'd taken Toris and Eduard, so there wasn't much question they wouldn't still qualify now. His motor mouth might be a deal breaker, though.

Toris looked at the spit-covered hay forlornly, trying not to touch it's slimy film as much as possible, listening to Raivis' babble fade. Flicking it from his hand as soon as it was away from Raivis' bed, he realized he'd then just have to sweep it off of the floor. Oh well. He was up. It wouldn't hurt to do his chores for the day.

Usually, children got up early on Christmas day to peek around a tree and rattle gifts. The lack of tree and gifts was completely common to Toris. Last year, though, one of the downstairs tenants had bought one too big for their apartment and left it on the corner. Toris' mother spent an hour cutting off the top with a large knife, dragging it up stairs. Toris vaguely remembered a Christmas tree a few years ago, possibly when he was four. He thought about it long and hard while he swept and dusted and wiped down the table. He could find bits and pieces somewhere in there. Of glossy ornaments, a wreath. Something fizzy in his mouth. That was an odd but disturbing sensation, he thought, wiping down the kitchen windows. Light was just now coming out from behind the taller buildings. It was probably around six thirty now. He couldn't tell without a clock in the room. He almost skittered off his stool, though, when he heard a knock coming from behind him.

"Toris?" Oh, it was just his mother.

"I was just cleaning early...Raivis almost choked in his sleep and I couldn't sleep again."

"It's okay, you aren't in trouble." She sat down at the kitchen table. "But you didn't have to do any of this. You don't have to work on Christmas."

"It's not really like it's special or anything." Toris put his washcloth in the sink, stepping down from his stool.

Agne stared at him for a while before sighing. "What was Raivis choking on?"

"Some hay I think. I didn't know we had hay."

"Oh." She looked down at the table sheepishly. "That is my fault then." She lifted up their ratty tablecloth and stuck her hand underneath. When it came out, she held up long strands of straw in it, thin and golden yellow.

"What do you mean?" Toris asked, confused by his mother's weird placement of straw. Was it normal to put straw there? He thought hay was meant for cows and farm animals and broom bottoms.

His mother smiled sadly. "Back when my mother. Your grandmother. Was touring the Eastern Bloc, she would tell me of good Christmas parties. Even back then, Americanization was happening. But when I was back home, this was a tradition. You put straw under your tablecloth." She put it back softly, patting down the tablecloth. Agne then ran her finger around a plate, almost absentmindedly, but her eyes were very focused on something. She thought for a moment and switched to her mother tongue, whispering something Toris could barely hear and understand. After a few more laps with her finger, she switched back to English.

"I'm sorry, Toris. This was supposed to be better than this."

"I don't care, Mom." Toris said. It was a lie. Sort of. When he was at home, it was all quite normal. It was only when he went out that he realized it really wasn't.

The scent of smoke soon filled the room. "What's with this pity party? It's Christmas!" Leena burst into the room moments later, energized and ready to go. She was already dressed in one of her remaining glittering dresses, covered in sequins and two actual stitched on leaves on top of shoulder pads, covered in something to make them last. The leaves shaped like green epaulettes on a red dress, she turned herself around once and posed, hands up, cigarette smoke drifting upwards.

"Huh? Huh? Thity-two and I've still got it like it was '97." She stepped proudly to the fridge, small and sensible heels clicking around on the floor. Agne waved smoke out of her face as it trailed after her.

"Good morning Aunt Leena." Toris chimed, finally sitting down. "You're up early."

"Becaaaaause?" She turned around, staring at him. "Huh? It's Christmas? What happened to you two, you look like someone..." She made a horrible noise with her mouth. Agne and Toris just stared, plainly. Leena brought her hand to her mouth.

"I always thought Raivis would pass before he was five." A harsh whisper. "Does Alisa know?"

"Good Lord, Leena." Agne gave her an incredulous look.

Leena shrugged, going back to rummaging in the fridge. "You're the ones who look like you'd been to a funeral. What happened to all the food. I thought I had some in here somewh- Oh? Ohohoho. I wonder who left this?"

From out of the fridge she pulled a bottle, wine-shaped, wrapped up in a holly-covered wrapping paper. Agne gasped quietly.

"Leena, no one can afford that."

Leena merely giggled. "I can. I had some saved in one of my old shoes. For holidays. This is our treat. Today, we drink like real Europeans do."

"It's seven, Leena." Agne tutted.

"What's special about seven?" Toris asked, curious and ignorant of drinking etiquette.

"See, he gets it." Leena replied, ripping off the paper to reveal a clear but green tinted bottle. On the side was a word Toris didn't dare pronounce. But he did still see the cork in the top and he knew wine had those. He'd usually seen wine as dark, but this wine was golden-coloured and fizzing still in the bottle. Soon, the cork was being pulled by Leena's sharp nails, struggling to come free. Soon, though, there was a loud sound that made Toris flinch. It was a loud crack, followed by a stream of white from the top of the bottle. It was soon followed by a crying Raivis and a screaming Alisa.

"Like mother, like son." Agne rubbed her temples while Leena laughed. Toris decided alcohol made weird things happen.

"There's a gunshot!" Alisa screamed from the distance. "Someone's been hit. Where is everyone? Help me."

A hurried sound of steps brought Alisa in, barely dressed. "Didn't you hear it?"

"Alisa, don't you come out like that with children around." Agne stood up, taking off her long night robe to cover Alisa with. "Children are...impressionable." She decided that was a good word as she draped her robe over the still reeling Alisa, looking around the room. Agne was still modestly dressed, Wearing a long sleeved cotton shirt and pants.

"I cannot believe it's been so long you don't remember this sound, huh?" Leena shook the bottle at Alisa. "It's just champagne, you twit. Go deal with your large-lunged son. It's about the only thing that grew on him."

"Ohh..." Alisa stared at the bottle, eyes wide for a different reason. "Oh." She turned on her heel, robe fluttering to the floor as she went to go take care of her son.

Before long the room was full, Alisa with Raivis on her lap (both fully dressed), Eduard sleepily staring at his empty breakfast plate, Agne making some sort of egg and potato mixture on the stove with Toris hot on her heels helping. Leena was pouring champagne into whatever cups she could find. A mug, an actual flute they'd had left over from their belongs from home, a plastic glass, a glass glass. Soon there were six cups filled with various amounts of liquid in them, spread across the table.

"Sis, why're there six when there's just three of us?"

"Because," Leena began, picking up the fullest glass, "on Christmas, children drink too."

Agne turned around, her hair hitting Toris in the face. "You cannot say that Raivis will drink?"

"It's barely larger than my nail is wide." Leena held up a small cup with barely half an inch of champagne in it. "What will it hurt him. He's already a munchkin."

"A munchkin? What's a munchkin? I'm a munchkin?" Raivis began. Alisa didn't question her older sister, just took the small cup from her hands and offered it to him.

"Here, Raivis, you can have a little bit." She placed it in his now open hands and he stared at the bubbles with wide admiration for their constant popping and moving.

"If I drink it, do they do that inside me too?"

"Yes, yes, Raivis." Leena laughed, drinking her champagne fast. "You know, Agne, your boy too had some when he was four. You remember?"

Agne looked up again from her cooking as if trying to remember. Toris turned to Leena curious. "Did I?"

"Yes, it was right after Alisa came with her money from Patryk. And we had a big tree in here, with gifts, with the ornaments, with champagne." She accented each word as if each was a small miracle. "You had some and you spit it out all over the arm of the sofa. Eduard was not even two and he still laughed at you."

"I don't remember..." Toris looked down at the plate he was holding, Agne piling on her breakfast mash. He felt a little embarrassed if that was true.

"I do remember." She mused, watching her ladle move carefully. "I almost forgot we had well off times here."

"Huh?" Eduard finally spoke, looking up from his plate. "We had a tree and cool stuff once?"

"You were one and two, you can't remember." Leena sat down at the table, sipping a second glass of champagne. She switched to a more motherly tongue"Me and Agne came over first, when you were just born. Toris wasn't that old either, so no wonder he doesn't remember much. But once we found this place, we stayed for a while. Then in 2007, your aunt Alisa's husband died, so she flew over here to be with us. And when he died he left her sooo much. He left her the world. So she came and we had big plans. Big plans! Move somewhere better, get flats. Each of us! And that year, we had Christmas. A big Christmas. Raivis had just been born, Alisa could finally drink again so we bought three bottles of champagne and we had the most magnificent time." All the while, Leena's hands went all around, exaggerating and drawing for Eduard the size of the tree, thee length of time, the amount of happiness. "Then, Patryk's other family members contested Alisa getting that money. And because she couldn't fly back home in time, they won and they took the rest away from us. So no, here we are. Sitting like this. Plastic glasses and dingy floor."

She took a noisy sip and everyone was quiet. The only sound was the occasional heavy sigh from Alisa.

Toris really didn't remember much since he was so small. It was amazing to think that for a few months they had everything and it was gone so soon. He was the first to break the silence.

"What did you guys have back home, though?"

"That depends on where home is." Agne finally finished, switching to Lithuanian and motioning for Toris to sit down. "We all grew up a little differently since your grandmother traveled and stayed in many places. That's why we all can understand each other, even though we're all from different places, knowing different languages and customs."

"Well," Toris began, finding that only slightly helpful. "I mean how much money did you have back home."

"I never made any money back home. I got my first paycheck here." Agne smiled. "I didn't have time to find work with you around."

"I tell you, taking a four year old to Latvia was so, so stupid of mother." Leena sipped some more. "First, all I know is Estonian. Then I get the hang of that and we go to Latvia and this" She motioned at Alisa, who was busy feeding Raivis his egg and potato mush, "is born and we stay there for years."

"Well the same thing happened to me, Leena, and I got along fine." Alisa said cheerily, all melancholy from earlier gone.

"You were five. That's a big difference."

"Only one year!"

Leena rolled her eyes and drank some more. "Yeah, and look at you now. Miss English professional. Because your big shot husband sends you to university. Where's your accent, huh? You sound just like every other blonde twit on the street." Toris never understood why Alisa never got angry when Leena called her things like twit or idiot. But she continued to smile and bounce Raivis on her lap. "For God's sake, Alisa, he is four years old, not four weeks!"

Agne got the conversation back on track, still speaking in her mother tongue. "We actually got to live in Lithuania the most. That's because your grandmother was getting a big story on the underground movements there. She took beautiful, heartbreaking photographs. I was born right before it wasn't the Soviet Union anymore, so I don't remember anything before those times. But she got story after story. So we just. Stayed there." Agne shrugged.

"That's why," Leena sarcastically purred in perfect Lithuanian, "we all know this language by heart instead of the cultures and languages of the places God intended us to."

Agne sternly looked at her. "Is that my fault? Do you think I wanted to ruin some national pride you seem to be so worried about? You're fluent in five languages, Leena, why does spending so much time in a place you barely remember mean so much to you?"

"It doesn't." Leena spat. "So be quiet and don't talk about things you know nothing of."

Breakfast resumed again with more drinking and everyone finishing their now cold food. Eduard was the first to leave, unimpressed by this conversation. Raivis didn't seem to pay attention and was more interested in being babied and accidentally getting napkins in his mouth, but was removed to play in the living room. The three adults remained in the kitchen, Alisa and Leena sitting at the table with Agne cleaning dishes and the counter.

"Let me help, mom." Toris offered, standing up and tired of the silence.

"No, Toris. Go do something fun, today. It's Christmas."

He hung his head, not knowing what to do but slink back to his room. Eduard lay in his bed, reading a book. Raivis played quietly in the living room, exploring the underside of the rug. Toris didn't find solace in bed, or staring out the window.

"Why won't you sit down?" Eduard finally asked, throwing down his book. "It's annoying."

"I'm just thinking." Toris muttered, finally laying back down, staring out their small window. It had browned, a little, from the cigarette smoke constantly in the house, but he could still see buildings and apartments and cars off in the distance. He fell asleep counting them and their colours.

Christmas moved on, boringly uneventful. Agne had to work that night, but she and Toris made dinner and washed dishes together before then. It wasn't until he was washing out a discarded milk carton to put in the brownstone's recycling dumpster that he realized something. While scrubbing a side of a milk carton absentmindedly, he noticed the picture of a small girl with a smiling face and stark blonde hair, remembering the invitation he'd received from Feliks the last day of school before break. He let out a remembering "Oh!" that made his mother look at him.

"What is it, love, is it hot?" She motioned to the water, speaking English ever since breakfast ended.

"No, no." Toris shook his head, looking back up at her, and going back to scrubbing. "It's just I'd never been invited anywhere before."

"It's okay, Toris, one day you will be. You'll be-"

"No, that's. I, uhm. Did get invited somewhere."

"Oh really?" She looked at him excitedly. That's so wonderful? When is it? To where?"

"I met a boy at school in the same grade as me. Not in the same class, though. And he told me to come over to his house during break."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She asked, laughing, but suddenly stopped. "Love, you are not ashamed or worried, are you?"

"No!" He said, loudly, which was true, but he didn't want to upset his mother. "I just forgot, is all."

"Well, it is Christmas, so you cannot call today." She said, moving around the grease in her sizzling skillet. "But tomorrow it is fine, so you go call. You do have a number, right?"

"Yeah." He nodded, admittedly nervous. He'd never actually been asked anywhere before. Unless "Please stand here." and "Can you sit over there." counted. He wondered what Feliks' house looked like as he finished scrubbing plates. He imagined a huge building, the size of a castle, where every floor had a different designs and were filled with extravagant furniture and good food and every toy and game you saw in the Sunday periodicals in the paper. Where fighting neighbours didn't scream in Portuguese and you didn't listen to rats crawl across the floor looking for a shoebox to live in. Toris would love to live in a building like that, with him and his whole family eating chocolates and staying warm and having their own rooms.

"Toris, your hands are so red!" Agne said softly in his ear, giggling. He blinked down at his hands, sitting idly in the sink, the hot water making them visibly puckered and boiled looking. It wasn't painful, but when he pulled his hands out of the dish water, he wondered if hands ever got burnt or puckered in Feliks' building.

The next day, Toris awoke with the memory of Feliks' number fresh in his head. He sat up straight, his roommates still sleeping, Eduard even snoring slightly, glasses left on his face. He immediately knew where he'd placed the post it note, lifting up his thin mattress. As he did, it fluttered down, the tackiness gone. It didn't matter. As long as the numbers were there. Even an address.

As he got dressed, he heard his mother coming in the door. He hurriedly pulled his best sweater on, rushing out his door to greet her.

"Hello, mother." He said, a little formally. "How was work."

"I'm tired, love." She replied, tugging off her shoes and head scarf. Her cleaning uniform shirt was the next to go, the stains sunk in but without holes or too much wear. "Please put that in the washing."

"Of course." Which there wasn't anything strange about that. He always did that. But isn't this how it worked in books and on TV? When a kid wants something they act extra nice?

"Toris, why are you excited so early?" Agne asked, laughing a little though tiredly.

"Mom." He started. "I have the number." He presented it like a rose to a princess. "Can I go call it?"

She laughed again, this time a little more amused sounding. "Toris, it's six in the morning. Are they up?"

"Shouldn't they be?" Toris asked, actually confused.

"Normal people don't get up when the chickens do." She said, stretching. "Try in an hour or more. They may be up then. But I'm tired so please let me sleep a little bit."

He watched her back, puzzling what to do for an hour or more. When her door finally closed, he stared at the number. An hour or more is a long time...

After his chores and making a little breakfast it wasn't even half past seven. He sat on their couch, staring at the wall. What to do for another thirty minutes? It was hard to do. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, Feliks and other well off people cared a lot about clothes. Toris spent a while trying to make his shoes and socks look as presentable as possible. Do you take your shoes off in a big building like that? You must, he thought. So he needed his best socks. His best pants were a nice dark blue colour with barely fraying bottoms and all the belt loops were attached, pockets without holes. His best sweater was a dark green one without torn cuffs or holes on the tag line or where thumbs could go. After he had made sure there were no holes in any of his clothes, no stains or unsightly threads, he was prepared for the big buildings with the fancy foods, filled with catalogs of items.

By the time he was prepared it was finally ten after eight. Raivis was awake in his bed, chewing on a stray cord from a pair of blinds (which Toris had no idea where it came from). No one else had shown signs of movement yet, but Toris decided to chance it. He opened and closed the front door very quietly, hoping no one was at the phone in the lobby the tenants could use.

He took the stairs slowly, at first, trying to keep his shoes looking pristine even though one of the shoelaces was tattered and coming apart. He didn't want to step on it and make it look worse. But soon, his eight-year-old excitement got the best of him and he raced down the remaining flights. No one passed him. He felt lucky.

When he got to the lobby there was no one. He WAS lucky.

As his mother had taught him, he went to the bathroom first to get a paper towel with a little water and soap to wipe off the phone and the buttons with. He carefully did so this time, not wanting to bring any germs into Feliks' supposed castle house. Carefully dialing he numbers, making sure he got them, he didn't exhale until after the dial tone finally ended and he heard a rather sleepy voice pick up.

"Hhh. Hello? Who the heck is this?" It was Feliks.

"Feliks!" Toris breathed outward. "It's, uh ha, Toris."

"Oh. Why're you calling at...morning?"

"I'm..." He didn't know how to answer that. "Are your...parents there?"

"I dunno. Probably not." Toris always thought that was a question he'd heard asked to be polite. Not because there was a chance they weren't there. Especially at eight, almost eight thirty.

"Oh, sorry. I'll hang up then."

"What. No, oh my gosh. What're you calling for?" Feliks seemed agitated when he was awoken.

"Well, I uh." Toris fumbled, playing with the phone cord. "You invited me over?"

"Oh yeah! Duh." Feliks yawned. "Let me pee and then we can talk."

The phone was put down and he heard Feliks get out of bed and a door open and close. Was it normal to say that kind of thing on the phone? Even if it was, Toris couldn't imagine saying something like that.

After five minutes of waiting, he finally heard some sound on the other line. "Are you still there?"

"Yes." Toris says, almost surprised he came back.

"Sorry, I saw my hair and was like woah, I gotta fix that!" There were giggles on the other end for what seemed like twenty minutes. Toris took note that hair was somewhat important too. "So anyway, you wanna come over I guess?"

"Yeah, if that's okay..." Suddenly losing his nerve.

"Yeah, okay, cool. You can help me clean up Christmas stuff, too. Just come over whenever."

"O-Okay!" Toris agreed. Cleaning wasn't an issue to him. It'd actually give him something normal to do. "But I...don't think I have your address." He knew the building well, but every building has rooms and one that huge had to have a lot of them. The memory of the address written on the paper had completely left him. It'd been an exciting moment.

"Okay, sheesh. Get a pen?"

Toris then realized he had nothing to write it down on. Or with. Why he answered "Okay!" again was beyond him.

"Okay. It's, uh, 1387 Dayland Street. Loft 256. We're on the second to top floor so it's easy. Got it?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" No he didn't. He repeated it over and over, though. 1. 3. 8. 7. Day. Land. Loft. 2. 5. 6.

"Okay then. I may sleep more though." And suddenly the line was dead.

When Toris finally got back up to his family's apartment, people were up and active. For the most part. Alisa had fallen asleep again on the couch, Raivis poking and prodding her sleeping body. Eduard was no where to be seen, but Leena was smoking in their armchair, reading the newspaper.

"Toris." She breathed out a puff of smoke, "Where were you?"

"Calling a friend." Toris replied sheepishly. "He said I could come over soon."

"He's not some man is he? You read all the time." She hit the paper with her cigarette hand. "Kids going off with men and then no more kid."

"...No..." Toris' eyes went wide. That was definitely not the situation here. "But I have to wait for Mom to get up to tell me if I can go or not."

"Eh." Leena waved her hand around. "I'm the oldest. I say you can go. She'll sleep for hours anyway." Toris could never put a finger on which way his aunt would lean in any situation.

"I should wait so she doesn't worry." Toris was stern.

"Mama's boy. Listen. I say go, so go! It's not right to be so good all the time." She took a drag off her cigarette. "You know the building number? If something happens, you call. No buts."

Toris stood for a while but finally nodded. His mother was better off sleeping anyway. He didn't know Feliks very well, if at all really, but he wasn't a man. So he was probably safe from being disappeared. Toris knew not to go with strangers, but he sort of knew Feliks so that was okay.

He had heard that it was polite to bring a gift over to someone's house, but Toris couldn't think of anything. He looked through the kitchen, looking for a whole food product but the only ones he found were a backup jar of jam and a new loaf of bread his mother had picked up last night. He considered both but realized neither of these things were wholly his so it would be rude to take them from everyone else. Possibly ruder than not bringing anything to Feliks.

He didn't mention bringing over anything anyway. So Toris assumed it was okay to just go by his lonesome.

He told Leena bye, redirected Raivis' attention away from his mother to his room, and peeked in on Eduard (who sat reading another book, face pressed against the pages). 


End file.
